half so many! And I am sure," I continue, looking at his kindly face, "that you would never have the heart to whip———"
"And does your father?" he asks, laughing.
"Rather! Only ask the fry! Shall you be likely to go to Silverbridge soon?" I ask suddenly and apprehensively.
"Not in the least. Why?"
"You might tell papa I was naughty or—or something."
"I never tell tales," he says. "And now do you think Miss Tyburn would allow you to come over to the parsonage sometimes and make tea for me?"
"Delightful!" I say, clapping my hands. "Oh! it will be so nice to get away from all these girls sometimes! They are all very well, sir, but I prefer boys."
"I expect a nephew in a few days, but he is not a boy, unfortunately."
"Will he play cricket with us?" I ask with interest; "one black coat does look so lost among all these girls!"
"I am afraid Miss Tyburn would object," says Mr. Frere, laughing again (really he is not a bit like most elderly gentlemen); "he is coming for some shooting a friend has placed at his disposal near here. I shall not see much of him."
"Is he nice, sir?"
"I think so."
"Helen Adair! Helen Adair!" echoes on all sides. The time has come for me to field. Surely I cannot distinguish myself as lamentably in that duty as I did in the other? "Good-bye!" I say in a violent hurry. Good-bye! But before I go I want to tell you that I like you very much indeed!"
By-and-by I am able to do my side some small service. Mr. Russell is in, and batting away with a determination and vigour that strikes consternation to our feminine souls, and presently he sends a mighty ball straight over my head (who am standing long
